


When You Met Bobby

by venueska



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angstn, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venueska/pseuds/venueska
Summary: (Inspired by HIMYM; voted by my followers/friends) (Warning applies for a forced kiss done by an OC.) A meet cute with an amber-eyed boy who works at a brunch bar turns into two and then three. If fate is for real, she works in mysterious ways.
Relationships: Bobby McKenzie & Main Character (Love Island), Main Character (Love Island)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	When You Met Bobby

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout-out to my friend Emily (@itsbobbymcbitch on Tumblr) for helping me out with one of the lines in this fic when I got stuck! I really enjoyed writing this because HIMYM is one of my favorite shows to binge watch and I love the idea of meeting the right people at the wrong time. (Especially if that person is Bobby.) Enjoy!

Ben’s studio was only a few blocks away now. You pull out your phone which displays the time and a reminder of your writing session with Ben. You have an hour before you actually had to be there. Even that was flexible since he had reserved the recording room for the whole day. At your stomach’s persistent rumbling, you resolve to pause for lunch.

Your eyes scan over the street, searching absentmindedly for an affordable venue. A brunch bar just across the street was offering smoothies in the spring spirit, a sandwich bar next door to it was offering everything for half off, and a bakery just by it was offering two pastries for the price of one. Spoiled for choice, you trek toward the brunch bar first. You take your place in line and dig your phone back out of your purse to inform Ben that you’ll be grabbing lunch first.

“The lines today are treacherous,” you mumble to yourself, peering over at the other two venues to see if either of them would provide better luck. 

“Aren’t they?” A male voice responds to your offhand comment, startling you out of your nosing. “The employees and the food here are stellar, though. I promise if you’re patient you won’t be disappointed.”

You take note of the tray resting on one of his hands as he continues to fill a display disc near you and look for a name tag. You’re curious to find he isn’t wearing one. You raise your brows at him.

“You work here?” He hums in response to your question. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re not wearing a tag.”

“Wearing a tag makes it easier for folks to yell at me for things that aren’t my fault.” He shrugs his shoulders at you, a devilish grin stealing the corners of his lips. “Plus it’s a good conversation starter. My name’s Bobby.”

You nod and move forward in the line. “MC.” You study the menu for a second and sneak another glance at Bobby out of the corner of your eye. Your stomach gives a pleasant turn when you realize he’s already looking at you. “Any recommendations?”

Bobby looks thoughtfully at the menu for a split second as if he hasn’t got it memorized. “The mango smoothies are my favorite.” He grins and smoothly slips in a wink. “And they’re on the house for pretty girls.”

Your cheeks tint themselves slightly and you put your hand to your chest. “Are they now? What a deal.”

He finishes filling the display and dusts off his hands. “Unfortunately you have to read the fine print. You have to tell me about yourself.” He slides behind the counter and leans on it. “I’m about to get my lunch break. What do you say?”

You spare half a thought to your writing session with Ben. You’ve got time though, and Bobby’s definitely got charm. If you never see him again, this was an innocently flirty encounter and nothing more. You find yourself beaming at him and nodding curtly. Delighted, he turns around and starts to mix up your mango smoothie.

Your order is ready shortly and Bobby disappears into the back to punch out for his break. Once he returns you both leave the brunch bar, ringing the door’s chimes behind you.

“So how much money has your store lost on that free drinks for pretty girls deal?” You push the straw into the drink and give him a playful grin

“Hmm, let me think about that. Not so much up until now.” Bobby looks at you. “But if you’re going to be a regular I foresee a huge change.”

“Nah, I’m not from around here.” You sigh and take a sip of of the smoothie. It’s the perfect consistency. “Though I really should consider it. My friend Ben’s record label is a couple blocks from here so I’m always flying in anyway.”

“Oh, you’re a musician?” He raises his eyebrows. 

You do half a curtsy for him. “I am! I write and Ben helps me produce.”

“A songwriter! What a catch you are.” Bobby beams at you.

The two of you stroll a little while longer, venturing into details about your jobs and hometowns, until you finally find yourselves back at the brunch bar. Bobby sucks air through his teeth and tosses a sad glance toward the restaurant.

“I guess I’d better get back to it then.” He nods over his shoulder and rocks on his feet a bit awkwardly. “For the record this has been my favorite thirty minutes since… probably ever.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Ever? That’s some tough competition.”

He smiles again but he says nothing. “Catch you later, MC.” He winks and turns back to the brunch bar, disappearing into the chaotic lunch rush.

You take one last glimpse at Bobby as you start to hike off to the record label at last. It’s not until you’re in the elevator that you realize neither of you had exchanged contacts. _It’s fine,_ you tell yourself. After all, what’s meant to be will be, right?

~~~

Willow shuffled an assortment of paperwork in front of her, her expression unreadable as you and the other members of your team took your seats around her. You glance at Ben, whose eyes have gone wide.

“So,” Willow declares as soon as the clock reads _11:00_ , “Album release is in a month. Promotion has gone over smoothly so far.” She casts a weary glance at Ben. “Except for that slip-up on Live.”

Ben’s gaze drops to the table and he opens his mouth to respond. You cut in first. “That was my bad,” you remind her. Her expression doesn’t change, though it’s directed at you instead of Ben which is a new development. Her dislike for Ben was always a bit baffling. He was goofy and careless at times, but she seemed to be more cut-throat with him than anybody else. “I hinted at the new single in my caption. It was a picture of me and Ben.” You shrug your shoulders. “My fans are smart.”

Willow’s responsive eye roll is far from subtle. The other team members sigh, delicately extracting themselves from the discussion by taking sips of their coffee.

“Moving swiftly on… The release party invitations are out. I’ve forwarded the guest lists out to all of you. The only thing we’ve hit a dead-end with is catering.” For the first time, Willow looks a bit depleted. “Any suggestions? Volunteers?”

You look around at the exhausted faces of your promotion team. Amy looks as if she’s ready to collapse, chugging the remains of her cappuccino as if it’s from the fountain of life. Ben looks at his laptop, tapping on the mouse pad softly, avoiding Willow’s stone cold gaze. Even Uriah looks like he can’t keep his eyes open, his phone buzzing rapidly in front of him with texts from billboard renters and location plans. You clear your throat suddenly. As usual, they drop everything to pay attention to you, which causes your stomach to turn.

“I’ll do it,” you finally pipe up. You fight the temptation to clench your eyes shut and take it back, pushing back the fears of failing to the back of your mind. “Send me the list of places you’ve already asked and I’ll get right on it.”

Your mind is racing now. If someone as business savvy as Willow couldn’t find a venue, what were the odds that you would be able to do it? Even if you did find a place willing to cater an event so big on such short notice, what if their food was rubbish? Or what if the opposite was true? There were too many things that could go wrong. Perhaps that’s why Willow was always so frazzled. You suddenly began to feel as if the work you put into your own career was hardly a good fraction of it. Then you feel intensely grateful for Willow.

In that moment, the feeling is mutual.

“You will?” She sounds slightly surprised, but not displeased. “You’re my savior right now, MC. I’ll send you the list. Don’t be afraid to branch out of Manchester, alright?”

Ben cracks a smile the first time today. “Yeah, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. Well, branches on the tree.”

“Just nothing overseas.” Willow taps on her phone and your phone buzzes. “Stick to branches we can reach. Ones that won’t spoil the food before they get to the venue.”

The meeting wraps up a little while later after you sort out bonus tracks and scrutinize title changes. You and Ben exit the building together, both scrolling furiously through the extensive list you received from Willow.

“My God, did she just rule out all of London and Manchester?” Your voice is dumbfounded, but deep down you’re not surprised. If Willow was anything, she was thorough. Your anxieties about failing to find a caterer resurface.

Ben clicks his tongue. “That raises some new obstacles. Quick, if we hurry, I think I know a basement venue run by rats in tiny chef hats. We might still be able to get a reservation in.”

You shoot him a glare. “I… don’t really want to serve my friends and Taylor Swift food prepared by _rats_ in a basement, Ben.” He laughs, then loses himself in thought.

“Hmm…” He looks around pensively. “I don’t really know England all that well. If we were in Glasgow, maybe I’d be of more assistance.”

You ears perk up. If you looked up just then, you’d most likely find the lightbulb that just went off in your head.

“She did say we could branch out…” You pause your pace on the sidewalk. Ben seems confused for mere seconds. His face lights up just like yours. 

“And Glasgow isn’t that far away from Manchester.”

You both grin. “That’s a whole other city of venues!” you say excitedly. You share a high five and start to look up train schedules for Glasgow.

The smell of mango and cherry pastry brushes your nostrils briefly, prompting unspecific nostalgia that leaves you confused albeit intrigued. Ben gives you a thumbs up to let you know your train was booked.

“Glasgow. Tomorrow. Eight A.M.”

It was one of life’s little victories, or so you thought. Too many of the venues you and Ben marched into with great confidence sent you away with your heads hanging, saying they either didn’t cater out of town or didn’t cater at all.

“Don’t give up yet,” Ben says, giving your shoulder a light push. You give him half a smile, grateful for his encouragement, but already tumbling down the worrying rabbit hole of doom. “We haven’t even checked downtown.” He points ahead of you, which indicates a right turn. Just around the corner was the street you had always called the landmark that told you Ben’s studio was coming up.

“You’re right. Just a whole street left to turn us down.” You’re usually not this pessimistic. But the guest list you skimmed last night had so many big names you weren’t enthused about disappointing, which was starting to feel inevitable.

Ben gave you a sympathetic look. “Cheer up, mate. I’ll go in the first one without you if you’d like.”

You oblige, stopping outside a restaurant titled _Robby’s_ , tipping back and forth on your heels as you waited anxiously for Ben to return. Your first album release was creeping up faster than you had ever expected. You had looked forward to this your whole life. Since you were a little girl with yellow bands on your braces, little dorky glasses and a fascination - but hardly much luck - with piano. You thought back to the young girl unwrapping her first guitar, and you weren’t sure how to break the news to her that her first real album was about to drop… and the release party, well, it was about to flop.

The incredible, unreal thrill of recording and releasing songs had faded by now. The fun bit was over now. The real work - marketing, promoting, releasing, and maintaining streams - was starting to become your new reality. It was suffocating at times, even if you couldn’t imagine yourself shouldering anything else.

All the work you had gone through to make that dream come true - flying and riding in and out of Glasgow, staying up late, even getting yourself drunk to write a song or two more personally than you ever would sober. Calling up people from your past to ask if their experiences were okay to use in a song. If that was hard, it was harder not picking up the phone and calling up some of the people the songs were about, no matter how much you wanted to.

You rake a hand anxiously through your hair, starting to pace. Your hair breaks away from your face, clinging to the fresh tears on your cheeks that you hadn’t noticed until now. You spin around, quickly checking to see if anyone had seen you crying, and smack into something hard.

At first, you’re sure it’s a pole. You start to worry about the bruise it’s going to leave but then you open your eyes. Familiar amber eyes look at you beneath furrowed brows, his freckles gleaming in the morning light.

“Hey, whoa!” He holds your shoulders at arms length as you concentrate on his face. “Oh, whoa. It’s you. Are you…” He’s about to ask about the impact, moving your hand away from your face where you hit on his chest. He frowns when he sees your puffy eyes. “Jeez, did I hit into you that hard? I can head inside, grab some ice and towels - “

You rub your head a little more, trying to scrub away the evidence of tears with your sleeve. Your eyes widen when you register who it is. “Bobby?”

Bobby grins when he realizes you’ve remembered his name.

“The one and only,” he says, puffing his chest and gesturing briefly to himself. Bobby hesitates before asking you again. “I really am sorry about smacking into you like that. Do you need me to run in and grab some ice? Or a cold towel?”

“The brunch bar is way down there.” You gesture impartially behind him.

“Oh. No, my dad owns Robby’s.” Bobby points to the door of Robby’s, from which Ben still hasn’t returned. “He’s negotiating a catering job with some bloke so I took my cue to go. But I could grab you something for your eye?”

Your cheeks flush. His eyebrows are knit with a concern you’re not used to receiving. “No. No, my eye’s fine.” You wring your hands nervously. “The bloke in there, talking about catering? That’s Ben. We’ve been running around like mad, trying to find somebody to cater my album release party next month.” You sigh exhaustively, glancing at your reflection in the windows to _Robby’s_. “With no luck,” you add.

Bobby smiles at you. “I think your luck’s about to change.”

You meet his eye and he’s looking at you funny. It’s rare that you feel comforted by a line like that. But his lopsided grin, his caramel-colored eyes… you wanted to know how he saw the world through them. You wanted to know him.

Before you can say anything else, he motions for you to follow him into the shop. A bell above the door rings when you both stride in; Bobby holds the door open for you, a small gesture stands out to you for some reason. This time, you’re looking at him funny. His cheeks turn engine red and he gives his dad a small wave.

“Dad.” Bobby’s dad looks at Bobby with raised eyebrows. “This is MC. It’s her party he’s asking to cater, actually.” He looks at you with a hint of uncertainty. “We’re, uh…”

A smile stretches across your lips. “Old friends.”

“Old friends,” Bobby says, his unsure look replaced with a giddy smile. “I really think we should take up this catering job.” His face turns serious, but you catch him giving you a sly wink. An unexplained trust in Bobby settles the anxious storm whirring in your stomach.

Bobby’s father grunts. “’Cause she’s pretty,” he says. His eyes twinkle with the same humor as Bobby’s. Bobby fidgets nervously, the crimson glow returning to his cheeks.

“Uh, well, I…” Bobby glances at you, then at Ben, who watches on, amused. “That’s…” He surrenders. “She is pretty, isn’t she? But I do think this is a good opportunity.”

“Great exposure for your place,” Ben offers. “We’ll put your promotion details all over the flyers. Even napkins.”

“Napkin ads, huh?” Rob chuckles. “Tempting, tempting… Bobby doesn’t normally get involved in our sales here. Hearing him so prominent about helping you lot is new.” He glances curiously over at Bobby. “But it doesn’t change anything.” You feel your heart drop through the floor. You glance over at Ben to share a defeated look, but he doesn’t seem affected. “Because I’ve already told Ben we’ll take it.”

The joy you feel at that very moment is unmatched. You fling your arms victoriously around Ben’s neck, nearly toppling him to the ground with your enthusiasm. You release him and turn to face Bobby, who looks between you and Ben with raised eyebrows.

“You’re a lifesaver, Bobby.” You fixate on him, figuring out how to portray your gratitude without crossing any lines. You’re so happy right now, you could kiss him. But that’s probably no way to treat someone you’ve met twice, so you wrap him into a grateful bear hug instead.

“Who, me?” Bobby reciprocates the hug delicately. “Nah, Ben’s a negotiating ninja. You heard my dad, I didn’t change a thing.” 

He pats Ben on the shoulder in good sport. Ben looks puzzled. Rob looks entertained. “Mr Craw.” He nods at Ben, then jerks his head toward the register. “Details! Let’s discuss.”

The two of them leave you and Bobby to shoot the breeze on your own. For a moment, you’re both unsure of where to begin. You both try to make small talk… at the exact same time. It was baffling - though humorous - how in sync you were without even trying.

“An album release party!” Bobby says incredulously, his smile bursting with pride. “That’s incredible! Any big names in attendance?”

“I don’t like to brag.” You wink conspicuously. “Huge ones. It’s going to be a banger now that we’ve got a caterer.”

Bobby puts his hand on his chest to pledge his honor. “I’ll take it upon myself to make sure that’s true! I have to give it a listen. If it’s even half as good as the singles you chose, it’ll be legendary.”

Your chest feels warm all of a sudden and your cheeks turn red. Something about the thought of Bobby remembering to give your music a listen sometime after your first meeting - which had happened weeks ago - gave you a distinct sense of flattery. 

“You listened to my singles?” you ask him, trying not to sound as melted as you felt inside.

“Of course! Your talent is second to none. I’m so impressed.” 

Your mind wanders momentarily to a song containing a line about mango smoothies in the spring. You wonder what he’ll think of it. You wonder if that day meant as much to him as it did to you.

“You’ll be at the release party, won’t you?” You try not to sound too hopeful, but you can’t help it if mild anticipation creeps into your voice, right? You had met twice now without plan. _And_ he thought you were pretty. He thought you were talented. He laughs at your jokes. You were charmed. Enchanted, really. Being around him was so refreshing, like a cold shower after a hard day at the gym. His humor and his kindness was a cold shower after the stress of today. 

Bobby was, if you weren’t mistaken, absolutely perfect.

You had to be mistaken then. Because nobody’s perfect. That feeling of wanting to know him, to see the world through his eyes… it settles in your heart.

“Oh, I’m no party crasher.” His eyes are glittering with a mischief that contradicts himself. “I’m afraid I’d need an invite for that, miss.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fine. If you’re going to make me say it. I want you to come. I’d be sad if you didn’t.”

“Just sad?” He pouts playfully. “Kidding. If it’s important to you, I’ll turn up.”

Since you’d been left alone to speak to Bobby, your heart had been pounding furiously. Your mind was in a frenzy, trying to figure out how much to read into his glances that lingered a moment too long to be friendly. How much to say. Should you be inviting him to the album release at all? Was that professional? Was that weird? But the moment had come and gone and he has said yes. It was like every beat of your heart pumped air into a bubble, ready to burst with the elation that was building up. He flashes you another crooked smile, and all at once it explodes into hundreds of butterflies in your lungs. You’re unsure if it’s the buttery aroma of Robby’s or the way his freckles are a perfect trail down to his perfect lips, but you suddenly find it hard to catch your breath.

You’re humiliated by the romance of it all. It’s laughable how quickly you lost yourself there. You were a songwriter so you were inherently a hopeless romantic to some extent but… you normally weren’t suffocated by details as frivolous as freckles. Normally you weren’t thinking about sealing a guy’s imperfect smile with a kiss after meeting him twice.

And yet…

“Thank you again. Have a good one, Mr McKenzie!”

Ben’s voice breaks your focus. Bobby looks away hastily and steps away from you, giving Ben a sheepish look.

“Our train back to Manchester leaves in thirty.” Ben pulls out his phone to verify his estimation. “Twenty-seven. Close guess. You good to go?”

You give Bobby an apologetic look and nod at Ben. “Yeah. I’ll give Willow a call on the way.” You press a small, grateful kiss onto Bobby’s cheek. “Thanks again, Bobby.” You stand apart, gazing at him with a tiny smirk. “August fourteenth. Don’t miss it.”

Bobby looks up from the floor at you. “Not for the queen. Not for the world, lass.”

The smile he gives you instills a brand-spanking-new feeling of certainty in his permanence. Something you had only felt once before. It’s terrifying but it’s comforting, so you let it be.

“The whole world, huh?” You give him a sly smile, walking backwards toward the door as Ben starts to go. “That’s some tough competition.”

Bobby says nothing, but his ever present smile is a indecipherably different as he watches you go. You turn on your heel and leave _Robby’s_ , still buzzing.

~~~

A million years ago, you were horrified that the release party would event disastrously. Slipping in and out of conversations with bigger names and taller drinks, you couldn’t imagine a higher feeling than this. You finally find Ben by the door, deep in conversation with Amy until he spots you.

“The day’s here!” Ben grins at you, raising his drink to salute you. “Mind if I steal you away for a minute?”

You oblige, following Ben into the kitchen of the suite Willow scored for the party. You stare in disbelief at it. You feel mildly misplaced in it. The kitchen alone is as big as your actual flat.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Ben pulls you into a massive hug, sniffling slightly. “Your hair smells good too. It’s such a good night.”

He’s drunk. Not off his ass, but drunk. You know him too well and you can feel his speech creeping up. An amused smile plays at your lips.

“All those weeks in the studio… ugh, and look.” He gestures toward the main room. The pep from the party is barricaded by a stranger atmosphere in the room around you and Ben. “Everyone loves it. Everyone loves you.”

You turn to Ben, smiling. Your smile falters when you notice a new look in Ben’s eyes. It’s unfamiliar. It’s distant. You can’t read it but he’s blabbing, so you have a feeling you won’t need to.

“Not like I do.” He tops up his drink. You eye it cautiously, still opting not to say anything. Curiosity and anxiety take turns biting at your heart. “No, MC. I think I love you the most.” He takes a step closer to you and you can feel his breath on your face. “I love you so much.”

His voice is barely above a whisper and you open your mouth to ask him why he’s standing so close, why he’s acting so weird. He catches your words with his mouth, pressing a sloppy, drunk kiss to your lips.

“You know I love you,” Ben says, pulling your arms around him and starting to sway to your song playing just outside. The sound is muffled by the walls, but the bass is deafening to you as you start to understand that Ben just kissed you. He kissed you and he… loves you? Where did that come from?

“Ben, you’re really drunk.” Your voice falls on deaf ears. Ben keeps swaying both of you to the music. “You just kissed me. You know you did that, right?”

You’re trying hard not to ponder it too harshly. Ben always got affectionate when he was drunk. He was sometimes a bit touchy, but you could anchor him if you tried to remind him of his actions. He didn’t mean anything by it and he always apologized. But he had never kissed you before. That was new.

“I know and it’s about damn time!” Ben whoops and chugs the rest of his drink. Startled, you look at him, wide eyed. You’re too dumbstruck to unwind your arms from him. He holds your head with both hands and presses a kiss to your nose this time. “Did you hear me, I said I love you. I really do. I’ve been dying to tell you.”

You give him a nervous laugh, still trying to excuse his behavior with the amount of alcohol he’s probably had by now. You risk a glance at the clock hanging above the door and the party’s just started. Your eyes fall just under the door frame, catching eyes with a stupefied Bobby, who holds a single rose in his hand, which hangs limply by his side.

His eyes drop and he turns to leave. You snake your arms out from around Ben, who squirms. “No, don’t go.”

You give Ben a desperate look. “Ben, you’re drunk.” You glance at the doorway but Bobby’s disappeared already. Ben’s gripped your wrists with both hands. His clutch is needy. Desperate. Selfish. It’s a side of him you hadn’t ever seen. You use every ounce of confidence to keep your voice calm. It quivers still. “Ben, let me go.”

“You…” Ben seems lost for words. The blaze in his eyes dies down. He’s regained a little bit of sense finally, but it’s too late. He releases you, guilt written all over his face. He looks at your wrists as you tug them toward yourself. “Did I hurt you?”

You don’t respond, glancing back at the doorway, but Bobby’s still not there. For a second you wonder if you’d imagined him there. You fumble for your phone, ready to call him, but you’re devastated to realize you still hadn’t kept his number. A newfound rage fills you, and you hasten yourself toward the door, scanning the party for Bobby’s brilliant bronze eyes, or his lopsided grin, or his contagious laughter. You consciously try to heighten your senses, searching the air that was pungent with sweat and beer and perfume, for his fresh baked bread scent. But you can’t find a thing, so you dart for the door of the suite, gracefully dodging the congratulations and requests for pictures.

It’s at the front of the suite building that you find a torn up rose on the ground, soaking in a puddle of very timely rain. Bobby is nowhere to be found.

You’re crying. Or is it just the rain? You felt many things in that moment but ‘sure’ just didn’t make the cut.

“I didn’t know you loved him.” Bobby’s voice. It fills you with a foreign comfort, but then it doesn’t. You turn to see his face and he’s more broken up than you. “I never would have…” Bobby pauses to catch his breath, struggling to untie the bow tie around his neck. “I never would have hit on you in front of him. I feel like a dick.”

Your heart stings. “I don’t love him, Bobby. He doesn’t love me. He’s just drunk and I’m just sorry. I can explain all of what you saw. Just come inside.”

Bobby throws the tie to the ground distastefully. “You don’t owe me an explanation, MC.” His voice cracks. He undoes the first button of his shirt.

He scans over your crestfallen expression and for a split second the same concern he met you with a month ago is back again. A small smile ghosts across his face when he realizes the same thing.

“We’ve got to stop meeting this way,” he says in a very tongue-in-cheek sort of way; although, you wouldn’t mind having his tongue in your cheek either. The air is light for the shortest minute in the world. The rain wastes no time weighing it down again.

“There’s nothing between me and Ben.” Your eyes are promising. His are abnormally sad.

Every bone in your body twitches to comfort him but you’re afraid of how much more it’ll make it hurt when he walks away anyway.

“I… I was going to bring you that rose.” Bobby kicks a puddle beneath his feet and gestures toward the crumpled rose between you. “And then I was going to have this whole speech about how you’re incredible and I want to spend more time with you. Then I was going to tell you that you inspired me to stop hopping from job to job. I’ve got a stable one at the hospital now. Then I was going to say, ‘You inspire me to do a lot of things, you know.’” Whatever trace of a smile was left is replaced with a pained look. “Then I was going to kiss you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach and does a flip. Hearing him say that almost did you in. You wonder absently just what state you’d be in if he actually had the chance to do it.

But he didn’t.

“But I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t want to be the lad that comes between people. That’s not the right way to start something great.”

You wanted to bite in, say something more to prove to him that you and Ben weren’t involved - not like that - and you liked Bobby so much it kind of hurt.

But you didn’t. He was so hurt right now he wouldn’t have listened to you anyway.

“Bobby…” You trail off, staring helplessly at him, fumbling for the right words, and dropping all of them at the door. There’s nothing you can say. You’ve lost him and it wasn’t even your fault.

“Work things out with Ben, alright?” Bobby forces a strained smile, which tightens your chest. “If things don’t work out, you know where to find me.”

“Do I?” Your voice feels detached from you. But you identify with the question. You had no way of reaching him. He doesn’t answer. He gives you a small, sad wave, and turns around to walk away.

In your best dress, on the best night of your life, you stand in the pouring rain. The night you had dreamt about turned out to be just like every other. Standing in the downpour you briefly wonder how much of the water spilling down your face was tears and rain, and how much of it could be credited to losing Bobby and how much was to losing your best friend.

A million years ago - or last month - you would have died on a hill saying fate was on your side.

Well, you were on that hill today.

And you felt more lifeless than ever.

~~~

The Villa sun beats down on your back, scorching every doubt in your mind that you’d be underwhelmed by its magnificence. You’d seen countless contestants commentate on the Villa being larger than they expected, but you hadn’t expected to feel that for yourself.

The heat was enough to melt every one of your anxieties away, enveloping you in its delirious warmth like a hug from a fever dream.

(But like, a good one.)

The girls greeted each other in the communal bedroom with a warmth that put the South African heat to shame. You tried to swat off the thought that begged to ask how long until that would change.

“Girl Code is everything,” Lottie says, casting you an expectant look. “Don’t you agree?”

You’re unsure if she’s serious or not. Still, you aren’t looking to make enemies here. You’re here for a fresh start. Perhaps in the most escapist sort of way, but a fresh start nonetheless. That included seeking out a new best friend. You sweep the thoughts of what had happened that spring under the rug and offer Lottie an agreeable nod.

“Of course! My girls are everything to me.”

Lengthy, cliche introductions fill the time remaining before the first text is sent off. Your phone sounds off its first alert of the summer, announcing your turn as the first to couple up. A nervous set of butterflies start to flutter in your stomach.

“Go on, babes!” Lottie gives your hand an encouraging squeeze, filling you with a sense of confidence you were definitely going to need.

You exit the Villa, trying to convince yourself you were ready for the summer ahead of you. _Just focus on what’s next_ , you tell yourself. _The… hardest part_.

You keep an iron clad smile plastered to your face as you strut down the steps, consciously swaying your hips, trying not to appear too stiff, which was nothing you weren’t prepared to do as a performer.

Catching eyes with your own reflection, you breathe a fresh breath of confidence. You look good. You feel good. On top of the world, really.

But then that world beneath you shakes viciously.

Amber eyes. Crooked smile. Freckles. Mango smoothies. Bobby McKenzie.

You stop at the bottom of the stairs. Both hands fly up to your mouth. Bobby’s dashing smile drops into a perfect ‘O’.

Your name staggers out of his mouth as recognition hits him. “I…” He’s speechless and you can relate.

“You two know each other?” A husky blond speaks up, drawing your attention to the line of four other boys for the first time.

“An old friend,” Bobby says, unable to take his eyes off you.

You brave through the other boys’ introductions, but your decision is made before they even say another word. You hadn’t smiled hard enough to hurt your cheeks in a long time.

The chaos of the rest of the coupling doesn’t compete with the buzz you got off seeing Bobby, standing close to him, making eyes at him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Bobby mutters into your ear. Every hair on your neck stands up. You turn to look at him beneath your lashes as Hannah emerges from the Villa. Bobby blushes up to his ears. “Hello.”

You laugh good-naturedly at how flustered he’s gone.

“So did things not work out with Ben?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but you can hear the tension in his voice.

You struggle to string together the best way to say your life fell apart that night.

You stare at the concrete beneath you for a moment.

“He was my best friend,” you confess. “He told me he had feelings for me. I didn’t feel the same way and things sort of fell apart from there.”

It’s the short version. It’s the version you’d rather tell because the long version ruined every good thing you ever thought about Ben, and you genuinely didn’t believe he deserved to be painted that way. So you kept it short every time. In any case, it didn’t matter how or why you and Ben weren’t involved. That was the past. Unchanging, untouchable… just like the certainty in the pit of your stomach that the man beside you was the future.

Bobby slips his fingers into yours. The smell of mangoes and baked bread dance against your senses.

“So, as I was saying. I got a job at the hospital because you inspired me to stop jumping around from job to job.” He gives you his signature grin, his dimple poking in on his left cheek. “You inspire me to do a lot of things, actually.”

You both pause for a second, and you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until nothing happens. You arch your brow at him.

“Did you forget your line or something?” You wink. “You’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Am I?” He lightly smacks his forehead and shakes his head. “Guess I’ll owe you one.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling. “Just one?”

“Oh, shush.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “I’ve missed you.”

“Bet I missed you more.” You shoot him a competitive look.

“Could you? That’s some tough competition.”

Maybe fate was on your side after all.


End file.
